


a first (among many firsts to come) - january

by hoonhan



Series: the story of 2park (told through the tales of the month) [1]
Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: 2park go to a party, 2park in that awkward but still sweet first dating stage, And like, Basically, Fluff, Freeform, M/M, New Years, Not Beta Read, Still At First Base (lol), To Be Edited, What's new, and, cool!woojin, enamored is used intentionally though it doesnt fit too well, enjoy y'all, haphazardly edited w/ grammarly, i'll definitely change things here and there later, introvert! jihoon, jihoon is shy and under the delusion that woojin is cool, just pure fluff, lol, thats abt it, they flirt and Stuff™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoonhan/pseuds/hoonhan
Summary: Woojin invites Jihoon to a party. Jihoon accepts because he's enamored with Woojin, so to speak. He thought he would hate it (especially since it was a New Year's Party) but Woojin manages to convince him that maybe parties aren't so bad after all (but only with kisses and dancing).orin which jihoon and woojin are whipped™ and find better company in each other than the bustling party around them ever could.





	a first (among many firsts to come) - january

**Author's Note:**

> hello all ^^ a new series i'm starting to be updated throughout the year and goodness knows if i'm even going to get through to february but here's to trying (。・・)_且
> 
> please enjoy ~ヾ(＾∇＾)

Jihoon heaves a sigh of relief, feeling like the oxygen in his lungs is finally deciding to help him breathe for the first time that night. The second he stepped through the front door he already knew that he wasn't going to enjoy himself. The warm air of alcohol and the dancing bodies everywhere he turned, the booming music that seemed to blast from every inch of the room possible, and the amount of young people making out and taking shots until they were shit-faced drunk—it was all so, so suffocating. And if hadn't even been a minute yet.

Woojin seemed to notice his discomfort after greeting the host of the party—Kang Daniel, his dance crew member—and a few other friends, for almost instantly he took hold of Jihoon's hand, with such gentleness that made Jihoon's reciprocate tightly against the rough atmosphere of the room and tugged him into a secluded spot by the stairs, where there were less bodies and more space. Jihoon was glad that the lights were dim because he knew more than anyone else that he was definitely blushing, definitely flustered and definitely not used to touches from the brunet. One thing he didn't know was that he wouldn't mind these feelings. Maybe even liked them, too.

He didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that was because the person holding his hand was Woojin, who he...liked, as well. It took awhile for him to come to terms with that fact alone. When he did, however, it was...weirdly easy. Which was, for lack of a better word, strange. Anything to do with his species he did not find easy, seeing as he hated the general existence and didn't understand most. Woojin...Woojin was an exception, an easy exception that Jihoon didn't think he'd ever make.

Woojin sat down and pulled Jihoon down with him, as softly as the grip on his hand, until he was sat down at a reasonable, comfortable distance. Jihoon was momentarily grateful but found himself not wanting Woojin to be careful with him, wanted instead to close the space in between them just so until they were as close, as close could be. That terrified him slightly, seeing as he's never even had the remote desire to place himself within half a meter of another living, breathing human. He rarely even hugs his Mom.

He watched Woojin stare quietly at their loosely joined hands in between them, watched as the latter's eyes grew soft and a smile spread across his cheeks, along with the unmistakeable blush dusted delicately on his tanned skin. It gave Jihoon a peculiar boost of confidence, and before he could lose the courage he scooted across the step until their shoulders pressed together and their hands in between them were the only barrier separating their thighs from doing the same.

Jihoon looked away as he brought Woojin's hand into his lap, adjusting his hands onto Woojin's so he could play with his fingers. His touch was hesitant and shy, though he definitely didn't want to pull away.

It was no doubt by this point that the blushes on their faces matched to the Tee.

Woojin wanted to laugh. They were at a fucking party, with beer and alcohol and music and dancing and couples probably having sex in the next rooms. But here they were, being terribly shy and just, amongst all the fun around them, content with merely enjoying each other's company, communicating through almost identical blushes and shy glances every now and then that said more than words ever could.

Woojin didn't touch a drop of alcohol that night.

It wasn't as bad as Jihoon thought it would be. He still hated almost everything there, except for one thing. And that was the very thing that made the whole thing bearable, the same thing that had him laughing and smiling and blushing and dancing and joking and actually enjoying himself.

Park Woojin.

He didn't leave Jihoon's side for the whole night. Not once did he let Jihoon out of his sight—in fact, for the most part, it was almost as if no one was there except for them. Drinking their juices (which only Kang Daniel could provide successfully un-spiked at a party seeing as the said ball of sunshine didn't even drink—ironic, considering he hosted the best parties around), they sat on the stairwell, on separate steps leaning against the wall, hands never leaving the other's as they talked about anything, everything, and absolutely nothing at the same time.

At first, conversation comprised of Woojin just asking a lot of questions, not hesitating with them and simply inquiring about any little thing he had wondered about when he was pining for the other. Gradually, quite slowly but surely, Jihoon began to feel at ease and opened up, giving more expanded answers and dropping in a funny anecdote or an interesting backstory here and there. All the while Woojin looked up at him with large, curious eyes, brain soaking in practically every word that came out of Jihoon's mouth. The hand holding Jihoon's started stroking it—it was an innocent gesture, comforting and tender and soothing Jihoon until he felt the suffocating feeling in his chest subside for a bit. He felt himself blush.

They had only been together for 2 weeks at most and gone on a sub total of 4 dates. It was usually like that—Woojin putting away his normally awkward, quiet nature around new people and sacrificing his comfort zone for Jihoon. He left himself completely in the open, allowed himself to be himself—and ultimately, vulnerable—because he knew that if he was going to make this work (and he knew he wanted to, goodness knows he did) he'd have to be the good, honest man he swears he is and show Jihoon that he's willing.

Willing to wear his usually hidden heart on his sleeve, just for Jihoon; willing to share everything of his, from his heart to his mind at 3am to the weird cravings he gets every 2nd Wednesday; willing to put the possibilty of heartbreak on the line to hope for the best and fall in love instead; willing to be Jihoon's shoulder to cry on when he needs it the most on the hard, gloomy days when nothing seems to go his way, and willing to be there for him when no one else is.

Because he knows he wants to. God, he wants to.

And through all that, he wants to convey that it's okay for Jihoon to do the same, too.

(It honestly doesn't matter at this point because Woojin is absolutely Whipped™ and, unless Jihoon asks him too, Lord knows he's not going anywhere anytime soon.)

He allows himself to ask all these questions and be the absolute Dumb Idiot he is because Jihoon needs to know the raw side of Woojin. He needs to know that this is person he's learning to love in their relationship, that this person is the one who thinks of him first thing every morning to the last moment before he goes to bed, and probably screams way too much for it to be healthy for his pipes (but it makes Jihoon laugh—pride be damned if Woojin gets to hear that angelic sound, and because of him, no less).

And, if the beautiful smile on Jihoon's face is anything to go by, he'd say it's going pretty well.

Somehow, after what felt like hours of talking, Woojin had pulled Jihoon onto the dance floor and convinced him to dance. He had flashed his snaggletooth with a light-hearted 'c'mon, it'll be fine. maybe we'll have fun, too?' He saw Jihoon look at the crowd of bodies, all mushed together in one huge mob of movement, and said, "Hey, hey, it's fine if you don't wanna dance, Jihoon-ah," the thumb on Jihoon's hand began to stroke again. Woojin paused before continuing, "And we have a good deal of dates to have in the future. We're bound to dance in at least one of them." He glances at Jihoon, a shy but confident smile on his lips. "Or at least, I hope so."

Jihoon was looking at the ground, the blush on his face able to be seen from a mile away from the redness of his ears alone. He looked up at Woojin, pink cheeks and all, and smiled slightly. The small nod was enough to bring a bursting grin to Woojin's face.

"I don't mind dancing now, just..." Jihoon looked away again, tousling his hair out of habit, "Don't let me go." After a pause, because his mother had raised him to be a polite, upright young man, he added, "Please."

The grin on Woojin's face said it all. The look in his eyes was cheeky as he said, "Of course, Princess."

Jihoon groaned in spite of his shyness, tousling his hair again. "Pet names already, huh?"

"You don't like it, Jihoon?" Woojin asked, a playful smile on his face as he slowly brought Jihoon closer to him, slowly enough that Jihoon could've refused if he wanted to.

But he didn't.

For some odd reason, he didn't find an inkling of desire subtotal.

Woojin pulled Jihoon until they were much closer, chest to chest and breathing in the same air, and Jihoon could probably count Woojin's eyelashes if he stood on his tip toes. He didn't even try to hide his blush anymore, feeling comforted by the fact that Woojin's seemed to be as dark as his felt.

"I..." he looked down, suddenly feeling shy. "I don't mind it, but...I like it more when...when you say my name," he confessed. The grip of Jihoon's fists on Woojin's shirt tightened when he didn't hear a response, wondering silently if he should have regretted opening up like that so soon.

Hesitantly, he glanced up and finds himself wanting to combust because Woojin's smile is definitely a contender of The Sun Himself and he was afraid if he didn't pull away the butterflies in his stomach would want to break free and eventually he'd puke them (along with the Apple-Raspberry juice) all over Woojin's black shirt.

Except he didn't.

Because it's Woojin.

And he likes Woojin. A lot. Huh.

(He still coming to terms with this fact, tiptoes.)

"Is that so?" Woojin asked softly. Jihoon buried his head against Woojin's chest and nodded, snaking his arms around Woojin's neck.

For a small while, they stayed like that, in their own little world swaying side-to-side against the partying bodies around them. Woojin didn't care, and Jihoon, miraculously, didn't find himself caring, either. They were in the space of them and all Jihoon could feel and smell and see and think about was Woojin, Woojin, Woojin.

There's a moment of pause as he listened intently to Woojin's heartbeat, pressing his ear to the pulsating beats. It was almost unbelievably fast. It was also what pushed Jihoon to utter the next words that leave his mouth, ones he wouldn't have dared to say an hour ago.

Quietly, he said, "I like you a lot, Woojin." He looked up, gazed into Woojin's eyes, who seemed surprised as if he couldn't quite grasp the fact that Jihoon had just said that aloud.

Eventually, Woojin's smiled, a smile unlike any other Jihoon had seen that night, one that made him weak in the knees and painfully desire to be the cause of that very smile for as long as he could make possible. There was an impossibly sparkling brightness, a light of happiness in Woojin's eyes as he replied, "I like you a lot, too, Jihoon-ah."

 

 

  
The night is chilly, and Jihoon, anticipating the hot humidity that a frat party brings, hadn't brought a jacket and worn a thin, comfy, oversized sweater. In retrospect, it was a stupid decision—it's winter for God's sake, of course he'd need a jacket.

He looks up at the night sky, at the stars twinkling cheekily against the dark velvet canvas. He feels calm, resolutely ignoring the pounding music from behind him and focusing on the feeling of something grounded beneath his feet and the cold wind blowing onto his exposed face and neck.

It's a bit of a surprise to find that he actually had fun that night. The party wasn't only bearable, but he genuinely enjoyed himself and he feels heat creep up his neck when his brain is yelling at him that 'tHaTs bEcAuSe yOuR bOyFriEnd wAs tHeRe yOu eMotioNaLLy cOnsTiPated rOcK'.

Boyfriend. Woojin is his boyfriend. He feels the smallest of whines creep up in his throat because for God's sake Woojin is his boyfriend, what the actual fuck [insert exasperated and disbelieving keyboard smash here]. Never in a million years could he have ever guessed that Woojin—Park Woojin with the cute snaggletooth and the cool-but-simultaneously-intimidating-as-fuck dance skills—liked him, Jihoon—Park Jihoon, that one quiet nerd who passive-aggressively ignores people in favor of his cat, Ruben, and a peaceful stay-at-home weekend reading books or watching movies and eating, with the occasional texting the group chat.

Who would've thought? Definitely not Jihoon, that's for sure.

Woojin is...cool. Jihoon is not cool. Honestly, like...what the fuck.

He sighs, shaking his head and tousling his hair for what feels like the millionth time that night. He feels that it's gained that stubborn middle part again but he couldn't care less—he already made the effort to look the slightest bit of good for Woojin, he's not going to go back inside and fix his hair.

He's been told that he has the Worst Fucking Fashion Sense To Ever Exist Like Honestly Jihoon-Hyung Get Some New Clothes Oh My God (Daehwi's words, not his), but did Einstein care about his fashion? No. Does Barack Obama care about his fashion? (Probably) no. Does his dad care about his fashion? Hell no. Does his mom care about his fashion? Hell yes, but does he ever listen to his mom? Yeah, he does but the pOint is that he doesn't care about what he wears when the first priority at the top of his list is 'STOP WATCHING NETFLIX/CUDDLING WITH RUBEN YOU LAZY PIECE OF SHIT AND DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE FOR ONCE OH MY GOD'.

Quite obviously, he hasn't handled his priorities right and still continues to do just that every weekend. But at least he finishes his assignments. He isn't kidding when he says his mom raised him to be a good kid.

Speaking of his mom, she was the very person he called before going to the party. He had asked her to help him pick out what to wear and it was to his slight chagrin that she actually sounded surprised and, for a whole five minutes, didn't even believe that her barely-not-a-hermit of a son was going to a party. Eventually, through his exasperation, he let slip that he had a date and the conversation only furthered his embarrassment.

("Oh, so you've finally found out you're gay? That's great, Hoonie!"

He groans, swatting at his red cheeks. "Mom!"

"What? You never dated any girls during high school, and you said you had a crush on Santa Claus when you were five years old!"

"Just because a guy doesn't date doesn't make him gay, Mom. And I was five—you always talked about Santa as if he was a fricking God. Dude doesn't even exist!" He pauses, thinking. "I didn't even tell you my date was a guy!"

"...But you are gay, aren't you?"

There's silence on the other line.

"...y-yeah, but—"

"I knew it! Honey, I told you Jihoon likes boys! Pay up, sweetie—"

And without a second thought, Jihoon hangs up.)

Eventually, he settled on a comfortable off-white sweater with a pair of jeans. They were the tightest jeans he owned, but they looked okay on him so he shrugged and eventually resolved to his usual solution of 'Fuck it, you're gonna die someday anyway'. He never had a problem with his face and he couldn't be fucked with makeup, so he tousled up his hair in attempts to make him look like he 'tried, but not too much' (again, Daehwi's words, not his), slipped on his red Converse and waited outside his door, phone in hand while the other held the keys and wallet in his jeans pocket.

Woojin arrived in all of his tan-skinned, snaggletoothed glory, with a black, long-sleeved shirt that hugged his lean muscles and a pair of black jeans. His hair was messy and his earrings glinted under the light and he looked so boyfriend that Jihoon, like all the other times he met Woojin, felt terribly shy.

Jihoon earned himself a compliment and hesitantly gave one back, and together they walked hand-in-hand to the party. Woojin asked about his day and talked about the dates he wanted to take him on, talked about his assignments and complained about his professors, and Jihoon didn't find himself feeling tired or uninterested once.

In fact, it wouldn't be a stretch to say he enjoyed the twenty-minute walk as much as the three-hour party.

Lost in his thoughts, Jihoon didn't notice the door behind him opening and closing. He stares at the sky, mind wandering aimlessly when a hand lands softly on his shoulder. He jumps slightly but relaxes when he sees it's just Woojin. Just Woojin, he thinks, with a ghost of a smile.

"Hi," he greets softly, offering a small smile before turning his eyes back to the night sky, drinking in the sight.

"Hey," replies Woojin, equally as quietly. "You're okay, Jihoon-ah? Sorry if I took so long—it took me ages to find a bathroom where there weren't two humans sucking face," he shudders, and Jihoon laughs.

"I'm fine. It's just...I know it sounds dumb and childish but I kind of miss home already."

"It's not. Dumb or childish, I mean." Woojin joins Jihoon, standing closely but again, not too close, as he leans on the banister, looking out at where Jihoon is. Jihoon wonders briefly whether they're looking at the same star before stupidly thinking that he wants to close the space yet again. "It's not bad to miss home. We all do sometimes." He pauses, formulating a response. "I miss home a lot, too. Not the dorms, God, if I could I'd live on the streets instead of with those idiots." Jihoon chuckles. "My home is in Busan, with my mom and Yerim-ie and my dog, Ppoomi."

Jihoon laughs quietly. "You have a dog? Where did the name 'Ppoomi' come from? It seems very...cutesy for you."

Woojin looks mock-offended. "Cutesy? I'd name my dog 'Ppoomi' any day! A cute pet name for a cute-as-fuck owner," he nods, satisfied, and when Jihoon giggles and nods in agreement he coughs, hiding his smile. "But yeah, you're right. I'm not the one who named her—in fact, Yerim was the one who did. My little sister."

"It's just you four at home—you, your mom, your sister, and Ppoomi?"

When Woojin looks across at Jihoon he sees the silent question in his eyes and nods indifferently. "Yeah, just us. My dad left us when I was two." After a silence on Jihoon's end that Woojin can't read he adds, a little desperately, "Please, don't feel sorry for me too, Jihoon-ah. Too many people have looked at me like I'm a kicked puppy on the streets after I tell them that. It...it bothers me, that—that look. That look like you're a dying flower that needs all the pity in the world. I'm not helpless. I can live without my dad," he says, and without meaning to he lets bitterness slip into his voice. "I-I'm sorry, just—" he sighs, closing his eyes. He tells himself to breathe for a bit. "Just ignore me."

"Woojin...no. No, I won't. Look at me, please, Woojin-ah? Um, in the eyes, not at my shoes, I mean. I-I know they're old and worn and stuff since I got them from my grandma a few years ago but I've worn them ever since and they fit me just fine so—"

As Woojin chuckles fondly at Jihoon's ramblings the latter mentally pats himself on the back and peeks at Woojin from under his bangs, smiling slightly.

"Look at me, please?" he repeats, and after a few seconds, Woojin complies. "Do you see that look on my face right now?"

Woojin bites his lip, searching Jihoon's face, his eyes, the feeling that he sees. He blushes at what he finds. After a few more seconds of quiet, he answers softly, "No..."

"Yeah..." Jihoon takes Woojin's hands into his own, surprising the other but he begins to play with them again, laying them on the banister. "I don't feel sorry for you, Woojin. I...I don't think you need your father. You seem like you'd make a good man of the house." He grins when he sees Woojin's cheeks pinken, highlighted by the moonlight. "And you've lived a good twenty years without him. You might not've grown up with a dad but you turned out just fine."

The raw sincerity in Jihoon's words is enough to ease the burden on Woojin's heart slightly and he squeezes one of Jihoon's hands, gratitude seeping through the gesture.

"I...thank you, Jihoon. Really."

Jihoon smiles, and for the first time, Woojin seems to get a good look at the other, despite being with him the whole time. With his messy brown hair and his flushed cheeks from the cold, Woojin has never wanted to fix another's hair or plant kisses on someone's face this badly before. He looks good tonight, and Woojin can tell that he put a bit of effort into what he put on—only because his fashion sense is usually, and he says this with the most affection possible, bat-shit crazy. He's stretched his sleeves over his hands and is covering his nose and mouth with it, to shield himself from the wind, presumably. Someone being this cute should be illegal, Woojin thinks—he has sweater-paws, for fuck's sake.

Woojin can see his collarbones and he has to get his mind out of the gutter because he vowed to himself that he'd take this slow, oh my god.

The moon is bright tonight and Jihoon's soft yet defined features are illuminated both by that and the lights coming from inside. Combined, they highlight his face in all the right places—his shining eyes, his sharp cheekbones, his soft lips.

His lips.

Woojin stares at Jihoon's lips. How they're so chapped but so pink and plush-looking he doesn't know. What he wants to know is how they'd feel against his own.

The other catches him staring, and his face heats up with the warmth that his sweater could never give him. His eyes widen, and he shivers.

The sound seems to break Woojin out of his daze and he averts his eyes, flushing and terribly awkward as he scratches his neck, looking anywhere but Jihoon. And as for Jihoon, he can't help but laugh—half because he's embarrassed, half because Woojin is really fucking cute, man, and wholly out of fondness for the other.

He rocks on his toes, a smile on his lips as he stares out at the night sky once more.

Woojin coughs, awkwardly, and asks, "Are you cold?"

At that, Jihoon nods. "A bit, yeah."

"Well, I guess this is the cliche part where I give you my jacket? But I didn't bring my jacket. Because I'm dumb. Where was I going with this."

Jihoon laughs. For the very first time, Woojin thinks of how inconsiderate his boyfriend is because his beautiful laughter is doing nothing to help calm his beating heart, excuse you, Jihoon.

"I could...hug you, I guess?" Woojin mulls over what he said and shakes his head quickly. "I-I mean—oh my fucking God, I can't do this, man."

Jihoon laughs again, a boisterous, booming sound and he's covering his cheeks with his sweater paws. Jihoon being cute is not helping matters at all. Woojin can't take this, honestly.

"C-can I, though? H-hug you, I mean."

He takes a step closer, looking away with his hands shoved in his pockets. Woojin's shyness is terribly endearing to the starry-eyed brunet, even though he's definitely not one to talk about that matter. He wraps his arms around Woojin's neck as an answer, and for the second time that night he buries his head onto Woojin—shoulder, this time.

"Yeah," he says, quietly.

With slight hesitance, Woojin locks his arms securely around Jihoon's waist and, after an awkward few seconds of staring stiffly ahead, stuffs his face into Jihoon's hair.

"I like this a lot," Woojin mumbles into his hair, eliciting a chuckle from the other.

"Me too."

They stay like that for a moment, swaying side to side slightly, before Jihoon leans his head against the junction between Woojin's shoulder and chest, where his head reaches.

"I can hear your heart beating."

A hum. "What do you make of it?"

Jihoon laughs quietly, shyness lacing the sound. "It's beating really fast."

Woojin nods, impressed. "Huh, wonder why."

The former shakes his head fondly, taking a hand from his waist and placing it on his own chest, over his heart.

"What do you feel, Woojin-ah?" Jihoon's asks, hushed.

"I feel you."

Jihoon shakes his head, laughing affectionately, "You ruined the moment, Woojin."

The boy smirks, a hand moving to cup Jihoon's cheek. He smooths his thumb over the soft surface delicately, tracing a line on Jihoon's cheekbone. The latter remains still, an arm still around Woojin's neck and his hand still holding the other's. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed. He's flustered beyond belief that he can't find himself able to move. Though, he finds no wanting to do so, really. Woojin's voice is low, warm, as he wonders, "Is the moment still ruined if I fix it with a kiss?"

Somehow, some way, Jihoon manages to find his voice, of all things. He gulps. "D-depends."

"Oh?"

Jihoon nods, small. "Are you going to be my kiss for the rest of the new year, Woojin-ah?"

It's a dangerous question, Jihoon knows. They're venturing into uncharted territory that perhaps neither of them are ready for. It's not been a month and he's already laying down promises that they might not be able to keep. Still, he finds himself wanting to know Woojin's answer, his reaction to the bold question. He feels that this is a turning point, that whatever Woojin says will affect a lot of their relationship. He's not sure what exactly, but he's soon to find out. He steels himself, in case Woojin ends up running away, after all.

To his surprise, Woojin's reply doesn't take too long at all.

"I am."

He's...he's fucking surprised, to put it bluntly. "I...what?"

Woojin looks confused. "Yeah, of course. I—Jihoon, I want this. This, us—I want it to happen. God, I...I really like you, Jihoon-ah. More than anyone I've ever liked before." He hesitates, biting his lips. "And that scared me at first. I was fucking terrified. I liked you so, so much but I didn't know what to do. It scared me because you breathed and my heart literally freaked the fuck out.

"Maybe my crush was superficial at first because you're really...you're really cute, Jihoon-ah." He blushes as he says this, looking away shyly. Jihoon finds himself doing the same. "But I admired you, y'know. For months I just sat in the library bullshitting that I was doing my work even though it was   I could see you. I never told anyone, and fuck I never thought I even would, but you probably figured it out anyway?

"I just...I don't know. I just like you. And it fucking scares me because I've never been surer of anything in my life, but I want to give this—us—" he squeezes, Jihoon's hand, emphasizing, "a try. There's no good reason for it other than that I just really want to be with you. And I know that sound's fake as shit but it's the truth, I swear." Jihoon laughs, and it gives Woojin that bit of liquid courage that he never even had to drink in the first place to gain. "So yeah, I do want to be the only one you kiss for the rest of the new year. Because...because I like you a lot, Jihoon. I like you so fucking much and it's terrifying but I've never wanted to be braver in my life." After a moment he winces. "God. That was so cheesy. I'm really sorry you had to hear that." Woojin sounds genuinely sincere as he says this that, for what feels like the nth time that evening, Jihoon laughs. "But only if you're okay with that."

He finishes, softly.

Jihoon feels warm. The hand against his cheek feels like fire against his skin and he wants to get burned, wants to relish in the way it makes him feel. He feels bubbly and the smile can't seem to leave his face, and the pumping of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach have never made him feel this good before. He feels over the moon, standing beneath it's light with Woojin in front of him and his heart on his sleeve, on his lips, in his eyes.

He feels so fucking happy.

And it's all because of Woojin.

He nods.

With a surge of confidence he says, boldness in his tone, "Do you think it would be bad luck if we kissed before the clock strikes twelve?"

He's staring at Woojin's lips, a ghost of a smile on his face. When he looks up into Woojin's eyes the latter's licking his lips and looking at the door, where they can hear the faint voices of all the partygoers counting down, loudly and in boisterous*** unison.

"Well," he starts, arms placing themselves around Jihoon's waist for the third time that night. "I'm sure that if we keep on until it's the new year it'll still count." After he says this, he leans in, slowly, gradually, until their breaths are mingling and their noses are practically touching. Despite the atmosphere, despite their shameless flirting, and despite the obvious fact that Jihoon has not at all pulled away, he still asks softly, gentlemanly, "Can I, Jihoon-ah?"

Jihoon nods minutely.

Woojin seals the distance between their lips when the countdown is at 3 and, true to their word, they kiss until the first second of the new year (and well after that, too).

Contrary to his looks, Woojin is a sweet, gentle kisser. His movements are controlled and made with purpose, done with such feeling and thoughtfulness that it has Jihoon weak in the knees. It's an innocent kiss, both keep their mouths closed, but it's a shared action that's so loving and tender and holds so much meaning to a new beginning—their new beginning—together.

Their first kiss is special, memorable, and has both parties smiling nonstop for the week onwards.

It's a first for the two of them, to experience the feeling of the other's lips against their own, to experience the other's heart so ever in the most common but most significant gestures of love.

Along with that first kiss came a silent promise, and it was definitely a first among many of their firsts to come.

**Author's Note:**

> hey if you made it to this point congratulations i love you thank you  
> not too shabby, i hope? i'll be editing when i have time seeing as school starts soon ;-; nonetheless i hope you enjoyed (despite the grammar mistakes that i hope are not there uh) <3 feel free to leave comments and kudos, constructive criticism if you want to lol
> 
> thanks for reading (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ!!!


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